No Choice - A Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction One Shot
by sherekahnsgirl
Summary: Tom comes home from a jog and succumbs to several urges. Dominant Tom, roughish sex, D/s, erotica, smut.


A/N: 18+

He closed the door quietly behind him and leaned back against it, still sweaty and panting from his run. She caught his eye immediately, as she always did, standing in his kitchen facing away from him, her hair falling in a beautiful mass of wavy auburn curls that ended just shy of her bottom, wearing his good shirt from last night - he remembered practically ripping it off, hurriedly, of course, so he could get to her, but had no idea where it had landed after that - and not much else as far as he could tell. Probably panties, though, since he had yet to insist that she not wear them when she was in the house - in his bed, yes. Last night had been the first night he had required that she sleep beside him naked, not allowing her, as he usually did, to don a sleep shirt and panties after they had made love and she wanted to fall asleep in his arms.

"No," he'd said firmly from behind her.

"No what?" she asked automatically, not really paying much attention to him as she rifled through her underwear drawer.

"No pajamas, no undies, tonight or any other night from now on unless you're sick."

Her head had jerked up and she turned to stare at him where he lay, unselfconsciously naked, stretched out on the bed watching her closely, as he always did.

"T-ooooooo-mmmmm," she had groaned. "I can't. I won't be able to get to sleep!"

That eyebrow rose and he rumbled, "Do you doubt that I know of innumerable and imaginative ways to exhaust you enough that you'll be asleep before I pull you into my arms afterwards?"

Hell no, she didn't! She still blushed around him as frequently as she always had, and this was one of those times. She knew just how red and hot her cheeks were getting, feeling his eyes on her as surely as if he was touching her and knowing without looking that there was a slightly amused, indulgent smile on his face that she was responsible for.

She couldn't imagine him making her cum again tonight - but she knew he _could_ and therefore, if he decided he wanted her to, she would, whether he chose to love her with his mouth or press his ever seeking fingers between her thighs, or to fuck her senseless again, she had a absolutely no doubt that he could wrest as many mind blowing orgasms from her as he was willing to give her.

And "give" wasn't necessarily the right term for it, either. That implied that she had a choice as to whether or not she chose to receive it and that was no longer the case as of last night, too.

Now, the morning after, he leaned against the door, arms crossed over his chest, knowing he should have been hitting the shower, but unable to stop looking at her; his eyes drinking in everything about her with the utmost in satisfaction and appreciation. She was everything he wanted in a woman - with one small caveat. She didn't dance.

But from what he could see from his distinct vantage point, she was doing a fairly good job of "not dancing" while she stood at the kitchen counter. The song that was playing now - a little louder than he might have preferred but then it was enough that she hadn't realized he was home yet and he had these few minutes to stare at her when she wasn't going to become self-conscious about it - was _Bulletproof_ by LaRoux and she was, essentially dancing in place to it. She just had to actually move her feet just a bit more and she'd _be_ dancing.

But dancing wasn't what was on his mind, although he certainly did appreciate the way she was moving her hips. His shirt came down further on her than he would have wanted because he was so damned tall and she was so wonderfully small, but then he would have preferred she be completely naked all the time.

That was going to be the next rule he introduced.

Right now, though, he contented himself with drinking her in as he followed his body's demands and began to walk quietly towards her. He wasn't really trying to be stealthy; he didn't much care whether she noticed him or not, and she didn't until he reached out and cupped her behind - under the shirt with both hands, making her jump and try to turn around, but he wasn't letting go.

Instead he tucked the tip of a finger into the waistband of her panties, sliding it around a bit, quickly finding their weakest point and tugging until they gave way, falling uselessly to the floor. The hands that had grasped her buttocks so surely moved up to her flanks and well past that, up the outside of her ribs, raising gooseflesh wherever he touched and taking the shirt up with him. When they moved around to cup her breasts, squeezing them much less gently than he usually did, his fingers finding and pinching nipples that were already peaked and ready for his touch.

He easily flipped her around and corralled her into the nearest corner, his big body naturally fencing her in as his hands grasped the two separate parts of his shirt where the first - and second - button were undone and ripped it open, buttons flying everywhere.

"Tom!" Her big eyes flew to his then away again just as quickly, not sure she liked what she saw there at all. He looked . . . determined was the only word she could come up with but it didn't really fit. Dominant, yes. _And_ determined.

And stern, somehow, probably because he wasn't smiling. For the first time she could remember, she couldn't find even a trace of a smile on his face.

With his shirt wide open, revealing the rest of her body to him, he pushed the remnants of it down her arms but not off, leaving it just about her elbows, effectively trapping her arms behind her and rendering them useless. He crowded into her even further, using a foot between hers to kick her legs apart and thoroughly enjoying her outraged gasp as he further insinuated his thigh between hers, easily pressing it up until she had no choice but to almost ride it, feeling its insistent pressure against her privates as he leaned down in an almost leisurely fashion to tongue her nipples, licking and suckling at them strongly, pinching and twisting its twin between his thumb and forefingers, licking his fingers and then plucking at it before switching sides.

Tom could hear how her rough her breathing had become and smiled to himself where it was hidden by his insistent suckling. His free hand reached around behind her to gather more of the shirt between her arms, forcing her to arch backwards and thus offer herself up to him like a virgin sacrifice and earning another louder moan from her that went right to his already stiff and swollen cock.

For a moment he lifted his head and stared down at her. Her face was flushed, her head back, hair everywhere, whimpering softly. When next he bent his head to her nipple, it was to bite it cruelly, repeating the same thing to her other nipple.

"Ow! That hurts! Stop!"

He ignored her and did it again, perhaps a bit harder, even, this time.

"Annhhh, no, Tom! Please!"

However late and undoubtedly futile, she began to try to fight him, knowing it was a hopeless cause - he was so much bigger and stronger than he was, and she was severely hampered by the fact that had very little use of her arms and he was practically lifting her off the ground with that long, muscular thigh of his between hers.

He completely ignored her silly attempts to stop him in favor of taking her mouth unexpectedly. She had been concentrating on trying to push him away somehow but hadn't accomplished anything towards that goal at all when his mouth settled over hers, slanting immediately, his tongue delving past her teeth to plunder her mouth aggressively.

Seizing on a way to perhaps control him, she brought her teeth down on his tongue in the same manner as he was treating her - none to gently.

His eyes flew open and met hers. Those auburn eyebrows were raised expectantly at him, as if she thought what she was doing was going to make him let her loose.

But she was wrong - _very_ wrong about that.

She didn't realize his intent until it was too late - not that she would have been able to do anything to prevent it anyway - he'd captured her nipple between the finger and thumb of his strong right hand and began to pinch and pull at the same time - hard.

Her outraged shriek allowed him to retract his tongue, but he didn't let go of her nipple or ease off on the painful way he was tweaking it until he had finished kissing her the way he wanted to - claiming her as his in no uncertain terms, his tongue boldly violating her mouth again as if to taunt her to try to bite him again.

She was smarter than that.

When he was satisfied that he had tamed that impulse in her, he let go of her nipple, but there was no immediately attempt to soothe it, either.

Instead he reached down to free his cock from the confines of his jogging shorts then caught her thighs and lifted her up, holding her easily with the length of his rock hard, swollen cock between them as its head pressed insistently up against her entrance.

"No, please, don't!" she whimpered, trying to move back, away from him, to somehow make herself less vulnerable to his invasion, but it was much, much too late.

On that last word, he thrust himself within her to the hilt, and her long, low groan made a liar out of her, as he'd known it would.

He tried to kiss her and she turned her head away until those long fingers delved into her hair to forcibly turn her eyes to his, his grip yanking her head back as she was repeatedly and forcefully filled with him, "You can say 'no' all you like, my darling - you can _scream_ it for all I care. I. Will. _Make_. It. 'Yes'."

He emphasized each of the last words with a violent thrust, one arm around her waist, holding her still for his punishing invasion, the other wrapped in her hair as his lips devoured her neck, trailing stinging bites all the way down until he got to a nipple.

Tom heard her gasp and knew she was expecting him to bite her again, but instead he encased it in his mouth and began to suckle as hard as he could while flicking the tip with his tongue.

The reward for his efforts was her arching against him, clutching at him desperately and mewling in a way that had his balls tightening against his body. He adored reducing her to this - it made him feel as if he was getting a bit of his own back, considering how mindlessly incoherent she always made him.

But he knew what she liked, and that that was just what he wanted, so he stripped his shirt off her then ruthlessly captured her wrists and pinned them to her back, tugging down on them to force her into an even more helpless, more dramatic, more obscene arch that offered up those delicious breasts to him as if he was a God and she a virgin sacrifice.

And he couldn't deny himself the use of them - each was avidly nibbled and bitten and suckled and laved as he plunged himself into her, amazed that he had been able to hold himself back from cumming this long. Her mere presence in a room could - and had - reduced him to the sexual equivalent of a callow youth - uncontrolled and uncontrollable - with his permanently hard dick constantly on his mind and/or in his hand.

Usually both.

He looked up from where he was ravaging her breasts to see the soft sheen of sweat that made her skin glow more than it usually did, hearing her breath hitch as he forced himself up inside her after withdrawing completely every time, letting the knowledge that, even after all this time, she still found it a challenge to take his length - that she was still incredibly tight around him even when fully aroused - make him even more frenzied.

She wouldn't make it there before it was all over for him, and he let the question that came to his mind rumble out of him in a low growl, "Should I pleasure you, my Princess?"

She couldn't look at him - he still had her head craned back - and her only response to him was stuttered, as a result of the jolt his every plunge send through her body. "Y-y-yessssssssss, puh-p-pleeeaaasssse!"

But he made no immediate move to touch her.

A minute later, he heard, "Puh . . . puh . . . puh . . . "

She couldn't even get the word "please" out any longer. The smile that spread over his face was a mixture of deep pride and pure evil. He adored the fact that he could reduce his extremely well educated, articulate, erudite woman to not even being able to say a single word.

And he'd barely touched her, really.

She felt him reach into the closest drawer and come up with a tea towel, with which he bound her wrists behind her back in order to have a free hand.

Finally, he let the fingers of that right hand wander between them, to the sparse, damp curls that adorned her mons and past them to the jewel he sought and beyond to gather residual slickness from around where she was already his to bring back up and begin to buff and polish that tiny gem, each flick of his finger a deliberately placed master stroke - incontrovertible proof that he had dedicated himself single mindedly to knowing exactly what she liked and how she liked it - designed to use her own body against her to obliterate her will and replace it with his, to push her past her natural modest reticence about such things and force her to surrender her body _completely_ to him.

He could literally feel it happening to her - both things at once. There was an almost imperceptible relaxation deep within her, and he knew she had become truly his in that instant, that she was completely in submission to him, and that knowledge in and of itself was almost enough to set him off. But he could also feel the much less subtle tightening of her interior muscles that signaled that she was nearly there.

And he redoubled his efforts, determined that she would reach Paradise before he did, reaching down again to get a bit more of her slippery stuff then almost attacking that massively swollen clit, flicking it mercilessly as he suckled strongly at first one gorgeous bud then the other before lifting his head - seconds from when he knew she would cum for him - and growled from deep in his throat, "Do it. Do it for me now. You can't hold back. I _own_ your body, I _own_ your pleasure and I _will_ have it _right now_. You have no control. No choice. I will take you with your own ecstasy as surely as I take you with my cock."

At that last word, as if to illustrate his point, he slammed into her with tremendous force and that was all she could take. But even as she screamed his name and her body spasmed in a rictus of unbearable rapture, he held her tight, held her contained, her head still controlled by him, arched so that she couldn't even see him as he kept her helpless, forced to experience the ultimate in ecstasy as he willed it, controlled and contained - and thoroughly _dominated_ \- by him.

Her explosions, as often happened, triggered his and as he began to spurt within her with a feral moan, her body milking him of every last drop of his essence, gripping him spasmodically long after he was completely drained.

Panting heavily, Tom released her hair and then her hands, still nibbling at her lips as if he can't get enough of them. "All right?" he asked, as he always did when he was rough with her.

She looped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, purring, "After that? I'm fucking perfect!"

He had a big shit eating grin on his face. "Yes, my dear, you most certainly are."


End file.
